Stolen Flowers
by RandomGeek18
Summary: Darcy watches from her window as once again the black haired man in a long coat stops in front of her lawn and picks a handful of flowers. - LARCY - AU - ONESHOT -


**A/N: Just a 'slice of life' piece, as my friend calls it. Not terribly fluffy but no ones dies! Win-win, right? Anyway, enjoy!**

Darcy watches from her window as once again the black haired man in a long coat stops in front of her lawn and picks a handful of flowers. Every day for the past two weeks, he's done the same thing and she's had quite enough. Darcy is rather proud of those flowers; she's spent hours pruning and fertilizing and plucking. The first day she saw him, she let it slide, figured he was late for a date and needed a quick fix. Then he was back the next day. And the next and so on. He never took too many; just three or four at a time, nothing that would be missed, but she was tired of it. Plus, the man looked well enough off to buy his own flowers. As he bends down to acquire his stolen treasure yet again, Darcy bursts out her front door a bit more forcefully than intended.

"Hey!" She shutters at the unexpected cold. _Should've grabbed a sweater._ She'd been nice and toasty inside, cooking up some hot chocolate, and had forgotten how chilly it was outside. "Listen, I appreciate the fact that you like my flowers enough to steal them but you gotta stop." Darcy finally looks up at him and nearly stops breathing. _Crap_. She'd never gotten a good look at him from her kitchen window but now… "I mean; I just spend a lot of time on them, you know?" Her voice squeaks a little. His stormy blue eyes shine for the briefest of moments as though he's been waiting for her to emerge and yell at him.

"I apologize. I meant no harm." The faintest of smiles dances across his face and he holds the flowers out to her.

She waves a hand at him, "You already picked them and I can't very well glue them back onto the stem."

A couple strands of hair flutter around his face, chased by the breeze, "How can I make it up to you, Miss…"

"Darcy." She rocks on her heels, folding her arms across her chest to try to keep warm.

"Miss Darcy."

She blushes, "Just Darcy."

"Mmmm." He just looks at her then and she feels like a bug under a microscope while he's jotting down notes about her wing structure and antennae length.

She tucks an imaginary strand of hair behind her ear, "What do you need them for anyway?"

"They're for someone I love very dearly." He smiles slightly but his eyes sadden.

Darcy deflates a little at that, "Well you know there's a store like a block down the street that sells bouquets, right? I mean, I'm sure they're a lot fancier than mine." she waves a hand at the bushes next to them.

The stranger looks down at the small flowers still clutched in his fist, "I was not aware of that. I'm somewhat new to town. But she prefers freshly picked, homegrown flowers anyhow."

"Oh. Okay. Um…well, welcome to town. Sorry, for yelling at you." She tries to smile encouragingly but her lips are tight from the cold and, to her, it just feels like she's grimacing.

"Thank you, Darcy. And I do apologize for stealing your flowers. I can compensate you, if you would like." He starts fumbling with his jacket before Darcy lays a hand on his arm to stop him. She quickly lets go, though, as she realizes how close she's gotten to him.

"That is really unnecessary." she crosses her arms again to avoid any more literal close encounters. She reminds herself that he obviously has someone special in his life that he's stealing flowers for, though she does notice the lack of a wedding ring.

"I do apologize. I hadn't been thinking properly when I passed by the first time. I saw the flowers and picked them. From then on, it became a sort of habit. I feel I do need to make it up to you in some way."

She smiles, shaking her head, before an idea pops into it. "I'll make you a deal, yeah?" He nods, looking a bit skeptical. "I'll come with you and see if this girl is pretty enough to receive my flowers. If I approve, I'll let you go on picking them, free of charge."

If there were ever a time Darcy would use the term _dear caught in headlights_ to describe someone, it would be now. She's about to take it back, tell him it was a joke, when his face clears and he solemnly spits out a quick, "Deal."

"Are you sure?" she tries to catch his eye, which is now staring intently at the sidewalk.

"Yes." His grip on the flowers tighten and he sniffs. "We'd best get going though. I'd hate to be late."

"Oh, okay." She hurries to step in line with him, his long legs setting a rather quick pace. She wishes she had asked him to wait a minute so she could grab a jacket from her house but she figures she's asked enough of him; she can lose a finger or two to frost bite. She looks up at him, not sure what to say. She's pretty much crashing his date and is probably going to cause him quite a bit of embarrassment, not to mention humiliating herself as well. She's not even sure why she asked to come with him; it sort of just stumbled out, like most of her conversations unfortunately. She keeps glancing at him, inwardly groaning at how handsome he is. Like, the word _hot_ would not describe him. He's much more refined than that. His skin is pale but not vampire-ly so and the contrast of his black hair is so intense, it gives him a sort of otherworldly look. There are already wrinkles setting up permeant residency near his eyes and Darcy wonders if they are from laughing or worrying. Looking at the guy, she's going to guess the later. She imagines his cheekbones would cut her finger if she ran one along his skin and she smiles at the thought of doing just that. She's so caught up in her daydream that she doesn't realize he's stopped walking. She looks up at him then over to where he's staring. She gasps a little, her hand flying up to cover her mouth.

"We're here." He mumbles before walking through the cemetery's entrance.

Darcy doesn't move though; she doesn't know if she should. One word keeps running through her head. _Crap, crap, crap._ She's still standing there in the mists of her moral dilemma when he turns back to look at her. His next words make her wish the earth would open under her feet and swallow her whole.

"Come on. I want you to meet my mother." He stands there looking at her like a lost puppy till she finally takes a step towards him. Then another and another. They walk in silence down the rows of headstones and Darcy plays with the fraying ends of her shirtsleeves. She knows anything that comes out of her mouth will just make this situation worse so she stays quiet. He turns a few times, obviously knowing exactly where he's going. Darcy can't remember ever stepping foot in a cemetery, save for the time her Uncle John died, but she was too young to really recall the experience. She notices it isn't as quiet as the movies make it out to be. Birds are chirping, flying around overhead, and you can still make out the sounds resonating from the highway, faint honks and screeches, while leaves crunch rudely underneath their feet. These aren't terribly loud sounds but when you think cemetery, you think complete silence and calm. You think death. Every sound is almost a mockery of that.

Darcy jumps a little when her companion lays a hand on her arm. "Here." He says, stopping in front of a rather lovely headstone. "Hello, mother." He smiles softly, kneeling on the cold, wet grass. He picks up yesterday's flowers and replaces them with the fresh ones in his hand. "I brought someone with me today." He looks up at her and her heart nearly stops altogether. There are tears welling up in his eyes, his breathe coming out in short, shallow puffs. She can feel him barely holding it together, trying his hardest not to break down completely.

Darcy kneels next to him, slipping her hand into his. It just feels like the right thing to do. She doesn't dwell on the way their hands seem to fit perfectly together. "Hello…Frigga." She says, reading the headstone. "I hope you like my flowers. Your son here keeps snitching them from my garden." She notices a soft smile grace his lips. "It's okay though. I've decided to let him go on picking. He seems to need them more than me."

He squeezes their interlocked hands, "Thank you." He whispers, his voice cracking just so.

"I'll give you some privacy." She goes to stand, but his grip on her hand only tightens.

"Stay. Please." He looks at her with those soul-capturing eyes and she can't refuse. She just nods and settles back on her heels. He turns back to the grave, "I don't know what more I can say, that hasn't already been said." His voice cracks again and Darcy watches the tears roll down his pale skin to drop remorsefully onto the crisp grass below. "I'm so sorry." He lays a hand on the cold, grey stone, his head hanging dejectedly. "I love you." the words fall amongst his tears. "I miss you."

Darcy is at a loss of words; a loss of everything. She doesn't know how to handle this situation. Normally, while navigating unknown territory, she'd crack a joke or make a sarcastic comment but even she knows that is not what's she's supposed to do here. She just scoots closer to him, covering his larger and slightly warmer hand in her two freezing ones, sort of snuggling into his side. They sit there for a minute or an hour or all day, Darcy isn't sure but she is sure that she can't leave him. She stupidly blundered into this, she's not about to leave the guy when he so obviously needs someone here for him. Soon enough, she finds her head resting on his shoulder, her arm wrapped in his. He looks at her suddenly, as though he's seeing her for the first time.

"Your hands are so cold." he states.

Darcy doesn't know what to do when he locks eyes with her; her body, and brain, just sort of stop working. She gains control of her head once more and nods, "Yeah, I guess I didn't come fully prepared." she shrugs her jacketless shoulders. "Hadn't actually planned on accompanying you when I burst out of my door."

He smiles softly, one that just barely brushes his eyes, and releases her hand, "Here," he slips off his coat. "Use mine." and he holds it out to her.

"No, no. Please, that's okay. I'll be fine till I get home." she waves his offer away.

"I insist."

"But then you'll be cold." she argues.

He shrugs, "I'm used to it." and before she can counter that, he slides the coat over her shoulders.

Darcy sighs at the warmth. _God, he smells good._ "Thank you, um..." she just now realizes that she doesn't know his name.

His eyes widen as he comes to the same conclusion, "Oh my word, I can't believe I haven't introduced myself." He sticks his hand out to her, "Loki. Loki Odenson."

"It's very nice to meet you, Loki." she shakes his hand, smiling slightly.

"I do apologize." he looks at her sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck.

She just waves him off, "I completely understand. You had a lot on your mind."

"And I'm sorry for dragging you out into the cold like this." he adds as if this whole thing were his fault.

She smirks, "Hey, that was completely my own doing. I shouldn't have interrupted your...time." she glances at the gravestone.

"I'm glad you did." he says so quietly, Darcy almost didn't hear him. He looks up at her, his voice becoming bolder, "I just...I don't have very many friends. I don't have really any friends. I saw to that quite thoroughly." he looks at the stone, his eyes darkening over again. "It was just nice to have someone to sit with. I like being able to share silence with you, Miss Darcy."

She smiles a genuine, ear-to-ear grin at that, "How about sharing some hot chocolate with me?"

Loki stands, offering her his hand, "I think I would enjoy that."


End file.
